


Favorite Porn Project

by AnnetheCatDetective



Category: Team Fortress 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are snippets of varying length, some already posted to tumblr and others not, that were inspired by fanart that I particularly enjoyed. (Not all of them are actually porn, but... well, most of them are)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bottom Sniper (inspired by a piece by Pongo)

“Sorry,” The Sniper said around a yawn.

“Another night.” Spy sighed.

“Nah, nah. ‘S been a long day, that’s all. I’m up for it, promise.” He tugged the other man back in, kissing him. “Don’t go.”

“Well…” A slow smile curved the Spy’s mouth, his arms going around the Sniper, his hands sliding lower. “I have been thinking about that ass all day…”

That earned him a dirty chuckle, and then it was a rush to get undressed just far enough— they didn’t have time, they never did. Not during the week— a rush to get lubed up, to find a position. The Sniper stretched out on his stomach, lifting his hips with a slight wriggle, a definite invitation, and the Spy was only too happy to accept, only too happy to brace his weight with his forearms and trace his tongue over the back of the Sniper’s neck and pant hot breaths against his ear.

He rolled his hips slowly, teasing them both. They didn’t have much time, but they were risking their skins just doing this at all, and sometimes… sometimes he just wanted it to be gentle, to last. He could speed it up later, but… there was a certain tenderness, a deeper connection.

He nuzzled the Sniper’s ear, gathered up enough courage to whisper, the one thing he’d kept himself from saying over all their assignations.

“I love you,”

There was a moment, not long but it felt forever, and then…

A snore.

“You bastard.” He groaned, head dropping forward. He should have just gone… “You said you were up for it.”


	2. Brief Top Sniper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is inspired by a piece I have lost any and all source info on... and the writing itself does not immediately suggest something specific.

The Sniper’s place is cramped, but that’s fine—it means there’s always something within easy reach to lean against, to brace a foot or a forearm on.

The petroleum jelly from the infirmary was a fortunate find. The Spy can’t imagine life without it, now, with his own weight forcing the Sniper deeper, his thighs trembling as he struggles with himself, spread wide straddling the other man’s lap, and his own cock is hard and leaking as he finds himself fully seated again, the Sniper’s hands firm and strong on his waist, helping him to lift himself up each time…

It’s so close to being enough, so close but he’s still so hard, there’s still more, more he wants, more he needs, and the Sniper still has more to give him, so he lifts himself up again, legs shaky, one hand reaching back to brace against his lover, foot slipping. It’s all right, the Sniper has him, those hands somehow keep him steady until he has his footing again and can finish lifting himself up. It’s a maddening relief to sink back down, and he hears the Sniper groan deep, feels the other man come, and it’s enough, as one of those hands slides around to get him off, it’s enough…


	3. Another Top (Wanker) Sniper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is inspired by one of Lintu's lovely pieces.

He’s never wanted to be claimed so badly, as he does now with the Sniper’s teeth digging into the soft skin of his throat, mask rolled up to expose that much, vulnerable, aching. 

He’s not used to putting so much trust into a partner, just physically, and it isn’t only the teeth, but the position, barely anything to support him, his legs wrapped around the other man’s waist, his ass resting on the man’s thighs. He feels like he’ll fall any second, though it isn’t a long way to go. He has one hand braced on the floor, but the angle is all wrong, and a hand on his wrist keeps him from fixing it, from making himself steady. Still, there is a hand at his back as well, broad, and this Sniper is a little more muscular, and certainly confident enough in what they’re doing. 

It’s the position they’re in at that moment, of course, but also the position he assumes they are going to be. As of now, as he clings on with his free arm and prays the other man lowers him down gently instead of dropping his bare ass onto the rough floorboards, as of now their cocks are trapped together, between their bodies. The friction is nice, the sweat provides enough slickness just for this, and if they got off that way, it would be fine, but he doesn’t think they will. Bite marks already cover the side of his throat and he still doesn’t feel as though he has been claimed thoroughly enough. He wants to be taken… and he doesn’t think he has to ask, either. It feels like a given. 

And somehow, even knowing the man holding him is wilder than most he will meet, he trusts him. For one night, at least, with his body, he trusts him.


	4. Sniper on His Knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not have an inspiration source in my old author's notes, but on re-reading this, I believe that I wrote it after gazing lovingly at one of Rosso's works. I could be wrong...

The Spy’s cock is perfect—the Sniper will allow his experience is limited, but he doesn’t feel he could have wound up gaining experience with a nicer one. 

It curves up just so, oddly attractive. A bit slender, like its owner… a nice length—at least, so the Sniper thinks. Maybe a little shorter than his, or maybe it’s the curve, he isn’t sure, but more slender. Fine by him, at least it’s manageable, the last thing he’d wanted was to fuck up the first blowjob he gave the man, but in the end, those worries were unfounded. For him, the Spy’s cock is perfect. 

Neither of them could wait, to be fully undressed. He’d shucked half his own clothes off before falling to his knees, and the Spy’s shirt was still half on, his briefs still halfway up his thighs even as the Sniper goes down on him.

He knew, before this, that the smell of the other man’s sweat drove him crazy, that he couldn’t get enough of him, the musk of his skin, the taste of him. It’s no different now, and he can’t keep still, can’t focus when there’s so much more of that scent, when there are new tastes, still completely Spy. It is gratifying, when the Spy muffles himself, the barest sound escaping past a gloved palm, and the Sniper slides his open mouth along the side of the Spy’s shaft, tongue laving across the thick blue vein up the underside. 

It’s where he is when the Spy first comes, a choked sob in his own palm and a small spurt of hot white that hits the Sniper’s cheek, dribbles down the side of his chin. A first taste, though he can tell the Spy is still trying to hold out, hold back on more.

He wants it. He pulls back, directs the Spy’s attention down to him, the mess across his face, the open lust in his eyes. Once his mouth is back on the man’s cock, he gets the rest,


	5. Sniper, Spy, a Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Definitely written about a Rosso piece.

The Spy sighs, reaching back to place a hand on the Sniper’s knee. The day—the week!-- has been a long one, he’s tired down to his bones, and the Sniper is…

The Sniper is so good to him, days like this. 

He supposes it is only fair. They do these things for each other. Back rubs, neck rubs, foot rubs, cups of coffee done just right, favourite foods found or favourite records played. It’s nice, having someone to take care of him, and it is just as nice to have someone to take care of. He never thought he would find either, least of all here. 

“Mm… and what about you, cher? What can I do for you?” He moans, leaning back into the man’s touch.

The Sniper chuckles softly, guides his hand up, trailing along his thigh until he reached the growing bulge in his briefs, cock half-erect. The Spy’s fingers curl around him, through the thin fabric, cotton worn and soft—and, he knows, all but translucent in some spots. It was one of the things that made him appreciate his partner’s frugality. The Spy would have thrown underwear like that out long ago, replaced them with something new and needlessly expensive, without even thinking about the potential benefits… Still, he doesn’t turn to look. He doesn’t really have to, and it is nice, just to lean back into the Sniper and close his eyes and touch.

“Getting hot for me, bebe?”

“Well.” Another low chuckle. “Every time you get a massage, you start moaning like a blue movie. Dunno what else I’m supposed to do.”

“Fair enough, fair enough. Mm… let me finish undressing. Not you—don’t you dare touch a thing, I want to peel it all off you myself.” The Spy smiles, rising to shed the rest of his clothes. 

The Sniper lies back on the bed, grins up at the Spy and lazily touches himself, but he doesn’t take the briefs off, or his open shirt. Just slides a couple fingers along, tracing the bulge, grabbing the Spy’s attention with the slightest movement and drawing out a groan.

“Not cheating.” He reminds the other man.

The Spy laughs and joins him, kisses him soundly and snuggles against him a moment before his own hands slip down to take care of the briefs. 

“Close enough. Why do I always reward your bad behavior?” He eases them down. “I cannot seem to help myself.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not complaining.” The Sniper reached up, giving the Spy’s shoulder a squeeze, kneading gently at the last bit of tension that hadn’t quite been worked away.

“Well… You are good to me, too.” The Spy admitted, with false reluctance, melting into the touch even as his hand found the Sniper’s cock.


	6. Lace in a Cramped Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I believe... Lolbatty? This ficlet has been on tumblr before, unlike the majority of these.

The Sniper rocked his hips forward, driving into the Spy, feeling the lace of the Spy’s waistband drag against the underside of his cock on every pass. It wasn’t the fact that the spook was wearing women’s underwear that was so delightfully naughty, though…

It was that they were red.

The Spy couldn’t have labeled himself any clearer without getting a very difficult-to-explain tattoo. That arse was the Sniper’s for the taking… his to squeeze, smack, fuck..

The Spy swore sharply, his knee slipping off the narrow bunk, his foot hooking around the Sniper’s calf to catch his balance.

“Careful!” He tried to brace himself.

“I won’t let you take a tumble, pet,” The Sniper promised, slowing his pace. It was tortuous, but some small, perverse part of him loved every second of it.

He pressed his forehead against the Spy’s back, feeling the silk lining of the waistcoat soak up the sweat pouring from his forehead.

“Gonna make you come,” He grunted, hips jerking forward slightly on each word. “Come all over them pretty little panties…”

“Hng—”

“Then you’re gonna leave ‘em here. Gonna walk all the way to your base without ‘em.”

“And what… what do you want them for?” The Spy panted, a grin replacing the worried grimace on his face.

“Dunno… smell ‘em. lick em. Yeah?”

“You’d… like that. Filthy boy.” He chuckled, shifting his own hips back.

“Have a nice wank… and put ‘em back on ya tomorrow night.”

The Spy suppressed a groan, only to shout a moment later as the Sniper thrust in harder, biting down on his neck and reaching around to roll a hard nipple between callused fingers, the Spy already sensitized from scraping over the sheets, the rhythm of their lovemaking rubbing his chest against the bunk in time. He always talked about buying the Sniper new sheets himself, ones with a decent thread count, but he always loved how much rougher they were than his own when he found himself helpless in the other man’s bed.

The Sniper’s tongue laved over the bite, and even through the balaclava, it felt incredible. Every stroke now was rubbing past that sweet spot, the Sniper alternately pinching and caressing at him, and he was coming hard and muttering every profanity under his breath.

He could feel the Sniper’s release leaking out of him, dripping down his thigh into the panties— ruined, but well worth the expense even for only a couple nights’ enjoyment. The Sniper’s weight collapsed onto his back, the Sniper’s breath regaining some steadiness, his touch becoming more gentle…


	7. Ultimatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one has been on tumblr before, with the reblog of the Riots piece that I wrote it for/was inspired by.

“Are you going to give me what I want?” The Spy whispered, voice like velvet, the smell of his cigarettes thick and cloying in the air, even though he’d stubbed the last out minutes ago.

“Give you anything,” The Sniper promised, pressing himself flush to the other man, holding him close. He nuzzled the Spy’s ear through his mask.

“Ah, but you do not even know what it is yet, cher. That is a dangerous vow to make. I have needs. After tonight, if you feel you cannot indulge them, then this will stop.”

“Know all about needs.” The Sniper grunted, rolling his hips forward.

He felt the cool edge of the Spy’s knife trace a line up his spine, and froze.

“I told you it was dangerous. This weapon is… secret. An extra. It is exempt from those rules of friendly fire that keep you from accidentally blowing holes in your comrades on the field.”

He shivered, and held the Spy just as close. “So what do you want to do to me?”

“Fuck you, mostly. Not hurt you. Not deeply. Tomorrow there will be another battle. There will be no scars. If you hold very, very still, you may not even bleed. But I want to learn every line of your body. I want to trace them with this. If you can let me, then I will be happy to indulge any whim of your own. If you cannot, then you put your clothes back on, and you walk out of this room, and we never speak of it again.”

“Dunno if I can do that.” The Sniper said, tightening his hold when the Spy tried to move away. “Leave without getting a taste of ya? Nah, nah, that’s beyond my abilities, mate. But I can hold still for hours.”

The Spy grinned, hiding his pleased expression against the Sniper’s shoulder as the knife hovered near. Then, with tortuous slowness, he began to learn, vertebrae by vertebrae, the length of the Sniper’s spine.


End file.
